Chapter 12

12

He didn’t know how others cultivated; he always trained at his own pace.

The Heavenly Zen Treasure Art had already reached minor mastery; when combined with the Thousand Transformations, soon a rough-looking man around thirty appeared in the mirror.

Chen Guanlou stared at his new reflection—his features and face shape had changed entirely, a completely new appearance. Not only would strangers not recognize him, even his elder sister Chen Xiaolan standing right before him wouldn’t know him.

When he opened his mouth to speak, the changes in bones and muscles altered his voice too—truly astonishing.

There was no time to waste; he donned his night attire, pulled on a hood, and stealthily scaled over the courtyard wall.

He had already investigated thoroughly: Zhang Wantong had a mistress living in Dark Seed Alley; when off duty at night, he always stayed at her place.

Arriving at the destination, he crouched on the rooftop, listening for sounds; once everyone inside had fallen asleep, he leapt down.

Having martial arts made all the difference—before, he would never have dared jump from a rooftop, fearing injury or worse, fearing death or broken limbs, for he had always cherished his life. Now, the distance from roof to ground meant nothing to him; with a light leap, he landed silently, without a sound.

Heh heh, he was now a man with martial arts. But he didn’t know exactly what level he was at, or how far he still lagged behind a First-Rank martialist.

He blew a puff of incense into the room, waited half a cup of tea’s time, then walked in calmly, shouldered Zhang Wantong, and carried him out.

A basin of cold water splashed over his face; Zhang Wantong groggily woke up, then realized he was tied to a chair, surrounded by utter darkness, with only a single candle burning before him.

He had been kidnapped!

Where was this place?

Who had kidnapped him?

For money? For his life?

He trembled, glancing around but seeing nothing.

He shivered violently in panic, “Which great hero are you? I have money! My family’s cellar is buried with silver! Please spare me, don’t kill me! After this, I won’t pursue it, not a single word will I utter.”

“What did you do?”

“What?” Hearing the voice, Zhang Wantong felt both relief and terror—relief because he was indeed kidnapped, and since the kidnapper was speaking, there was still room for negotiation. Terror because the kidnapper remained hidden in darkness and had asked a bizarre question; he couldn’t fathom the intent, and feared saying the wrong thing and angering his captor.

“Great hero, what do you mean? There’s too much—I beg you to point me in the right direction; I’ll answer everything truthfully.” Zhang Wantong pleaded, trembling with flattery and fear, his eyes darting everywhere but seeing no trace of his kidnapper.

“Why did Jiang Wannian die?”

“You mean Jailor Jiang! What’s your connection to him?”

“Say one more word, and you’re dead!” Chen Guanlou, disguised as the kidnapper, spoke the most powerful words.

At these words, Zhang Wantong instantly fell silent, no longer daring to speculate, not even daring to glance around.

“Great hero, I’m innocent! Jiang Wannian’s death has nothing to do with me! It was the higher-ups who needed someone to take the blame—and Jiang Wannian happened to know something, so he drowned. I know he died unjustly, but I’m just a lowly jailer, powerless and insignificant—I truly don’t know the details!”

“Nothing to do with you? Don’t tell me you didn’t know? Word is you’ve been very busy lately, even finding time to snitch and stir up trouble.” The kidnapper smiled faintly, radiating calm certainty, coldness, and cruelty—as if the next second, he’d slit Zhang Wantong’s throat.

Zhang Wantong shuddered, then began protesting again, “It wasn’t me! I didn’t want to! I was just following orders!”

“Tell me.” The kidnapper seemed genuinely interested.

“After Jiang Wannian died, the jailor position opened up, and several jail clerks wanted it. Especially Xu Fugui and Jailor Zhang—they were both senior, with many connections. But they didn’t know Jailor Wan was also eyeing the position. Though Wan had less seniority, he supposedly had a powerful backer—the kind you dare not offend. Wan approached me and ordered me to create chaos, cause trouble for Xu Fugui and Jailor Zhang, make them fight each other.”

Let the sandpiper and the clam fight, and the fisherman will profit!

Who would have thought Jailor Wan was so calculating.

“What did you do?” The kidnapper’s tone suddenly turned dark.

“I deliberately gave Xu Fugui some trouble, and then deliberately associated closely with Jailor Zhang. Xu Fugui naturally assumed Jailor Zhang was behind it, trying to frame him. Now they’re already at war.”

“What trouble did you give Xu Fugui?”

“His men weren’t clean. Exposing that now would be enough to ruin him. Also, his accounts were already suspicious—especially last year, when several prisoners suddenly died in the jail.”

“I heard he had a new recruit who wasn’t clean either?”

“Great hero, you even know this? You’re not…?”

“Want to die?”

“Spare me, great hero! I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you!” Under someone else’s roof, one must bow. To save his life, Zhang Wantong spilled everything.

“That new recruit knows nothing—he’s just a pawn, a bonus. Whether he’s there or not, they’d still beat two dates. He just happened to follow Xu Fugui. Xu Fugui offended someone, so everyone under him suffers.”

That was true.

Follow the wrong boss, and when the boss falls, the underling still thinks he can escape unscathed—that’s self-deception.

Chen Guanlou finally understood why Zhang Wantong targeted him. Damn it—classic case of a fire at the city gate burning the fish in the moat. He was just the innocent fish caught in the blaze.

A tiny jail, a single jailor position—still no word from above, yet below, they were already fighting to the death. If petty people fought this viciously, how much more chaotic would the great ones’ battles be? He couldn’t imagine how many innocent fish would be swept away, how many would die.

Petty people lived humbly, with no right even to say “no.”

“What did Jailor Wan offer you to make you work so hard for him?”

Zhang Wantong hesitated, unusually shy.

Chen Guanlou slammed a palm into his chest, nearly breaking his ribs.

“Want to die? I’ll oblige.”

“I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you!” Zhang Wantong gasped, feeling as if his heart and lungs had been crushed—each word sent pain through his chest, “Jailor Wan promised me that if I succeeded, he’d promote me to his position, put me in charge of the Jia-class jail.”

What a delicious pie!

No wonder Zhang Wantong bit.

Jailers were lowly work—poor pay, despised by all, terrible conditions. Even skimming a little grease earned them curses as heartless, rotten guts. Sometimes they had to carry out interrogations, torture, and beatings. In short—it was filthy, stinking, and degrading.

Any jailer with even a sliver of opportunity wanted to escape and find another path.

Chen Guanlou was the exception—he had willingly jumped into this dye vat.

From jailer to jail clerk—one character difference, yet a world apart in status, identity, and wealth.

Jailers rarely got to see the officials; jail clerks at least had a chance to appear before them. Just that alone was enough to make countless people risk everything!

To become an official was the highest ideal!

All professions are lowly—only being an official is good!

Official! Official! Official! These three words held a deadly allure for men and women across thousands of years. Even a mere low clerk, compared to a jailer, was ten or a hundred times better—worth betting everything to seize!